Chapter Two: The Composition Department

Yunhai Media’s headquarters was immense, occupying an entire skyscraper on the banks of the Huangpu River in the Magic City. Reaching the Composition Department required a fair bit of time—even a transfer on the elevator was necessary.

A few minutes later, descending from the fifty-eighth floor to the seventh, the two arrived at the Composition Department. In three years with the company, Wang Mo could recall only one previous visit here. The first time had been to record a song.

Back when he was still at the peak of his popularity, the company had considered launching him as a singer, venturing into the music scene. All he needed to do was open his mouth—no matter how poorly he sang, it didn’t matter. With a sound engineer, even a dog could be tuned into a heavenly voice. Unfortunately, his original self was so hopeless that after a single attempt—where the entire song was almost transformed into electronic music—the company reluctantly abandoned the idea of him becoming a singer.

“This voice… not even as good as a dog’s,” the company’s sound engineer had privately lamented.

From then on, Wang Mo never set foot in the Composition Department again.

But today, he returned—not as a proud star, but as an ordinary employee.

“Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west… The ancients never lied,” Wang Mo thought gloomily.

Who would have guessed that a top-tier celebrity would one day be reduced to working as an ordinary staff member in the Composition Department?

As soon as they stepped inside, the employees stirred. Many looked at Wang Mo with strange expressions—whispering, faces complex, some even gloating. Everyone in the industry knew Wang Mo had fallen victim to a public backlash, sacrificed to the tides of opinion. Yet seeing a former superstar brought so low, they couldn’t help but sigh.

Passing through the workspace, Yuan Xiong led Wang Mo to the office of Liu Zhengwen, the department manager. Yuan spoke, “Mr. Liu, you should have received the company’s notice. I’m handing Wang Mo over to you.”

Liu Zhengwen, busy at his desk, frowned and replied coolly, “Alright.”

Truthfully, Liu Zhengwen was highly reluctant to have Wang Mo in his department. A fallen idol of such notoriety was like a ticking time bomb—who knew when he might explode, bringing trouble to Liu’s doorstep. Moreover, Liu knew full well that Wang Mo would be treated like royalty in the department; he certainly wouldn’t actually expect him to compose songs—he’d have to know how, wouldn’t he?

Seeing Liu’s attitude, Yuan Xiong’s face darkened, all his pent-up frustration from last night erupting. He kept his expression stiff and said coldly, “Mr. Liu, others may not know, but surely you do? Wang Mo was smeared and suppressed by rivals—this wasn’t his own doing. Even if you lack sympathy, you should at least welcome him with a smile for the immense contributions he’s made to the company. What’s this? Now that he’s no longer useful, you’re above it all? You feel aggrieved to have him here, but have you considered how much Wang Mo has suffered?”

Liu Zhengwen was flustered, embarrassment written all over his face.

He quickly stood up, forcing a smile. “Alright, alright, I promise I’ll treat him well.”

“Good,” Yuan Xiong nodded, satisfied.

Within Yunhai Media—and throughout the industry—Yuan Xiong was a renowned top-tier agent. His ability to bring Wang Mo to the heights of stardom proved his skill. Liu Zhengwen, a mere department manager, was in no position to act superior.

Seeing Liu Zhengwen relent, Yuan Xiong turned to Wang Mo with a smile. “Stay here for now. I’ll go talk to the company and try to find a way. Who knows, maybe there’s a chance for a comeback.”

Yet his words were tinged with bitterness. He knew better than anyone: once a superstar falls, their reputation is irreparably shattered. Even if the authorities didn’t officially blacklist Wang Mo, he would never return to his former glory. Who would dare hire him? No one. Unless a miracle happened, Wang Mo would be left to languish in the Composition Department, waiting for obscurity, never to rise again.

The company would never proactively terminate his contract—such hope was even more impossible.

“You…” Yuan Xiong wanted to comfort Wang Mo, but in the end he merely gave his shoulder a gentle pat, then turned and left, his steps heavy.

When Yuan Xiong was gone, Liu Zhengwen finally faced Wang Mo, squeezing out a smile. “Wang Mo, welcome to the Composition Department. Let me introduce you to the team.”

“Alright,” Wang Mo replied absentmindedly.

For just then, a voice echoed in his mind: “Congratulations, host, on entering the Composition Department and completing the novice mission. You have received one Bronze Chest.”

Without hesitation, Wang Mo silently recited, “Open the Bronze Chest.”

“Received.”

The system displayed a message: “Based on the host’s current situation, the chest will automatically generate the item most needed… System generating… Generation complete…”

With a flash—the Bronze Chest opened, cheap golden effects shimmering.

“Congratulations, host, you have received the song ‘Whatever’.”

“Kind reminder: 1. All related files—lyrics, score, arrangement—have been sent to your email, please check. 2. Songs obtained from the system will be immediately registered under your name.”

What a thoughtful system.

Wang Mo raised an eyebrow. Not only could it generate the items most suited to his needs, it handled every detail perfectly.

Surprise fading, he turned his attention to his prize: “Whatever.”

Kun’s song! His breakout hit. This song was excellent, but few could sing it well.

He certainly couldn’t—not after his recent scandal. If he tried to sing “Whatever” right after the incident, outsiders would see it as courting disaster.

You’re indifferent? Fine, go jump off a cliff!

Even before the scandal, he couldn’t have sung it. He relied on looks, not talent.

But the system claimed it was the most suitable reward for him at this moment. Was there something he was missing?

He pondered, but couldn’t figure it out, so he asked, “System, why give me this song?”

System: “Most suitable.”

Wang Mo: “Why is it most suitable?”

System: “Because it is most suitable.”

You’re really just messing with me.

Wang Mo was beginning to understand the system’s temperament—a soulless lump, arguing with it was pointless.

Ding!

Another message appeared: “Host has opened a chest, triggering a mission.”

“Mission: Release your first song.”

“Requirement: Select an appropriate singer and publish ‘Whatever’ on a music platform.”

“Reward: Two Bronze Chests.”

Release a song?

He now understood why the novice mission was to enter the Composition Department.

But the reward for the first mission—two Bronze Chests—suggested the difficulty was considerable.

At first glance, the task seemed simple: pick a singer and publish the song.

But it wasn’t.

First, “Whatever” was demanding—few singers could capture Kun’s style.

Second, on Blue Star, composers were lowly—mere tools.

Even on Earth, composers weren’t particularly respected, save for a few celebrities with industry clout. Ordinary composers were beneath even minor singers, scraping by.

But compared to Blue Star, Earth was paradise.

On Blue Star, composers were truly humble, always at the mercy of singers. From composing to recording to release, composers had no say, obliged to obey instructions. They either wrote songs to order or offered their work for singers to pick from—nothing but tools, only capable of writing.

Yet the success of a song depended not only on the singer’s performance, but also on the lyrics and melody—both crucial. However, due to their low status, if a song succeeded, it was credited to the singer; if it failed, the blame fell on the composer.

Thus, for Wang Mo to select a suitable singer and publish “Whatever,” the difficulty was off the charts.

Because singers always picked songs; composers never picked singers.

And who would care for a song written by him?

Of course, now was not the time to dwell on this.

He gathered his thoughts and followed Liu Zhengwen out of the office, ready to meet his new colleagues.